Follow your destiny,
Water your plants,
Love your roses,
The rest is shadows - Of unknown destiny.
Reality is always
More or Less Than what we want
Only we are always Equal to ourselves.
-Fernando Pessoa-
Youth is a drunken, reckless, half-blind state, and through it I lived on four continents over three decades. I traveled across the globe all by myself, long before the internet and YouTube informed all of our decisions. Now, with sober middle-aged eyes, I look back with genuine bewilderment and wonder how did I do it.
With that perspective, when I decided on a last minute detour to Cairo en route to Mumbai to see the new Grand Egyptian Museum and check the Pyramids from my bucket list, I didn't think I was doing something all that adventurous.
But soon I realized that time has changed my comfort levels. Now into my fifties, with access to Reddit red-flags and YouTube videos, I have become cautious, risk-averse, and less able to roll with the punches. Sadly, I am significantly less adventurous than the invincible young man I was.
Where once safety was just a fuzzy guideline on the periphery, now It is my plan A. I don't mind missing an experience, skipping a sight or an adventure, or passing up an opportunity in favor the physical comfort of restorative sleep in a familiar bed.
The flight from Lisbon to Cairo came cheap with an overnight stay at Athens. I was able to pack light for my journey due to the pleasant November weather in Egypt and then in Mumbai. Mom (91) wasn't well and I wanted to spend some more quality time with her. Surprisingly, at her advanced age she is getting ever more fun to be with.
As I waited at the airport for my flight, I realized I needed a book to pass the time on my long layover in Athens. On a last-minute visit to an airport kiosk, the genius of Fernando Pessoa's poetry slipped into my hands like a secret note passed by destiny itself. We will talk about this on another blog, for now let's move on to Egypt without much ado.
After a couple of disappointing customer service experiences from Aegean, the Greek airline I had booked, we finally landed in Cairo. I was amazed how the YouTube videos I had watched helped me navigate my way out to the airport quickly and efficiently. I skipped the currency exchange, on-arrival visa and remembered the 'avoid engaging strangers' guidelines, and before I knew it I was enjoying the pleasant mid 80s F weather. I was very excited as I waited for my driver with the pyramids calling me and Fernando Pessoa in my mind humming.
Pyramids are calling!
As my plane descended on the vast desert land greened by the river Nile, I caught my first glimpse: the ethereal triangles springing from the earth's heart, their shadows casting another triangle to form diamond-like shapes on a desert canvas. The sighting was very sudden and unexpected. No wait in the lines, no museum tickets. They were just out there. Even from afar, the true visual experience-- seeing the pyramids in the flesh-- clashed with all of my pre-conceived two dimensional notions, the flattened image I had preserved in my mind over the years. I can't yet put finger on it, what impressed me more- the perfect geometric form or the sheer size and scale against the arid background. It was at the conclusion of my trip that I realized that their flawless geometric precision is best understood only from a distance.
Landing in Cairo revealed exactly where the green Nile River Valley surrenders to brown desert. This narrow band of fertility has sustained human settlement for millennia, yet its borders are unforgiving. 95% of Egypt's population is clustered in 5% of this winding green corridor. I have observed similar phenomena as you take off from Santa Ana in California heading east—clear the mountain range and the desert swallows everything, further evidence that even the mightiest civilizations have their limitations.
In fact, later I learnt that there was a branch of Nile that ran directly besides the Pyramid as late as early twentieth century.
Here in Cairo, though, civilization plants itself in the desert - about 22 million people live here. Cairo's sheer scale is stunning. I wasn't ready for Cairo at all. Mumbai raised me and I haven't yet gotten stunned by any metropolis. I have lived in desert cities before, including Jeddah and Riyadh in Saudi Arabia. But Cairo operates on a different level.
I got my first glimpse of the city at ground level as my hotel appointed driver Khalid drove like a race driver across the Cairo highways. My first impression was the absence of green-- the city was desert brown everywhere. We drove past hundreds of buildings that were half-complete, although they seemed to be occupied. I later learned that some were left incomplete intentionally, as they would be taxed at a higher rate once they were finished! Construction dust clouded the air, painting haze across the sky like a sci-fi movie opening. It felt like desert version of Kevin Costner's Waterworld. (Yes, I like that movie!).
LIke most places in the world, it's a tale of two cities, the swankier side (above) and the part occupied by everyday citizens (pictured below). As this blog will unfold, you will read about the true treasures of Egypt, shown by the kindness, hospitality and resilience of Egyptian people in spite of challenging economic and climate conditions.
The first look
After crossing the bridge over the Nile, we arrived in Giza and to my hotel, which was surprisingly cheap and located a stone's throw from the pyramids. The ancient monuments filled my window, even visible from my bed. They also filled by heart with enthusiasm. After check in I immediately went to the open air terrace to take it all in.
The image that had lived in my mind for almost 45 years finally became reality. It is hard to describe the moment. It wasn't fulfillment or disappointment of expectation. It was the collapse of the symbolic into my lived experience.
The power of these three wonders of the ancient world is magnetic. When you witness perfection on such scale of dimension (the time, the physical scale) every other human, political and social construct is rendered temporary and trivial.
Pilgrimage without doctrine
Over the next four days, I saw people from all corners of the world pouring in, speaking every language imaginable, arriving on a pilgrimage. No religion, Influencer, Bible, culture, or history commanded them—just their simple fascination of something extending so far beyond religion or humanity. People stood staring at the pyramids in complete introspection, nothing else. Some believe that they couldn't have been man-made. That, in my view, captures the pyramids' true significance—they ignite these emotions in our minds, forcing us to recognize something exists beyond ourselves.
But I had to wait another 12 hours to see them upl close. That afternoon I had a date with the Pharaohs. I had to get ready for my trip to the Grand museum that was about to start in a couple of hours.
Guide! Guide! Guide!
My hotel manager Sharef was true to his name 'an honest man'. He let me check-in early, another example of Egyptian hospitality and nicety! An excellent English and Italian speaker and super welcoming person, he walked me through all the guide options and booked my plans for the next three days.
Like I said earlier, my hotel was not one of the pricier ones favored by most western visitors. I decided to save on lodging and instead splurge on a guide, and every dollar was worth it!! Later I realized how lucky I was after hearing from the other guests who did not avail themselves of the guide and cab services. I saved so much time and frustration getting in and out of the museums and pyramids just because I had all arrangements pre-made.
The Museum-- first day of arrival
At 1 PM sharp, my driver Khalid, now joined by my guide Ahmed, arrived at the hotel and whisked me over to the new museum, then shepherded me through the long lines.
The museum fascinates and swells with national pride. You'd think nothing could dominate the eternal pyramids, yet somehow this place manages it. It had just thrown open its doors, and school kids, adults, and families from across Egypt streamed in alongside tourists from around the world speaking every language. This museum operates at a world-class level—dwarfing the Louvre, the Met, and the Pompidou. The structure astonishes, and its sculptures and artifacts tower over everything. They're curated like the ancient kings and queens they represent.
We blazed through the entire Grand Egyptian Museum that day. Ahmed walked me through, point to point as an experienced navigator, me telling him precisely what I was and was not interested in seeing in order to save the time. I marked my favorite pieces and places to revisit on my encore visit on the last day.
They're not just curated—they're ceremoniously placed as if inhabiting a city that exists eternally. I'd throw down premium prices to return one day for a preview devoid of crowds.
Reflecting on my experience now, I realize the design draws from the pyramid's geometric patterns. Steps and escalators lift you slowly upward through one huge, flowing space. At one point, the pyramids fill your view—though my hotel room commanded a better one!
https://www.archdaily.com/1036488/the-grand-egyptian-museum-heneghan-peng-architects
I didn't linger at the Tutankhamun section on the sixth floor, which was where most of the crowds were. My interest was immediately focused on the simplified, modern-art-like paintings Egyptians carved six millennia ago.
This is what had confounded me and drawn me here: 3,000-5,000 years before the Greeks and Romans, and long before the Renaissance and modern art erupted, Egyptians had already distilled art to its essence. Simplified lines, shapes, composition. Long before Picasso dazzled the world with cubism, it already existed on earth. Even he was inspired by it! I craved seeing it all at the source, in its wholeness.
I stopped to capture the lines of the treasures in front of me, stunned by them—no artist's name attached. Surrounded by timeless pieces, I could feel the presence of the ancient artisans as if they were here with me. Did they know their work would outlast millennia?
Copying the lines in my sketchbook, I grasped how much meaning was packed into them. Their color palette was limited but soothing. The postures, the angles and characters were determined and intended. The composition was stunning. Above all, they were designed to survive thousands of years.
They functioned like a math equation—potent, delivering maximum impact using minimum lines and zero clutter. The angles, the composition, all mathematically precise, just like the pyramids themselves. They formed geometric shapes. I traced them almost mindlessly, but they satisfied something in my eyes.
After about four hours, I escaped the museum and stepped back out into the noise and confusion, full of frustrated tourist who couldn't summon their Ubers. Thankfully, I breezed through all that and settled into my car, happy in my decision to spend the extra money for the guide and driver.
Even though I felt exhausted by my overnight stay at the Athens airport (all to snag the cheapest flight out), I wearily followed my guide's suggestion to visit this Papyrus Institute of Cairo. worried that I might find the same experience that I remembered at an Istanbul carpet seller— an elaborate demonstration leading to hard sell.
Instead I was treated to a demonstration of this technique of transforming papyrus plant into paper—Egyptians invented it thousands of years before other civilizations figured it out.
As a tourist I held my guard. My budget and my suitcase didn't allow me to buy much and didnt want to waste the sales girls time. After clarifying I wasn't buying any paintings, I started to leave when I asked my host about raw papyrus paper I could paint on. I am big sucker for a handmade papers. I collect them and use them for my mixed media art.
She introduced me to the local artist who creates all their paintings. We just started chatting and I showing them my museum sketches, which triggered immediate response—he admired how perfectly I'd transcribed the script. The work impressed them enough to offer me paper to paint on for free.
I quickly redrew and painted one my sketches on the papyrus paper as store employees gathered around me. We completed the piece within 15 minutes collectively, and watching it emerge as completely collaborative art rewarded me deeply. I used their paper, their colors. I gave that piece to the local hostess who helped me create it. She, in turn, gifted me a small piece from the store. I bought a large sheet of papyrus to carry home.
An experience like this is why I travel. That captured my heart in Egypt. The people.
Exhaustion pulled at me after that long day, so we headed back.
On our way, we stopped at a restaurant for traditional Egyptian food. I have to say, the food disappointed me on that first day, and again on the second. Only on the third day did something really good reveal itself—but that story comes later.
I came home tired yet buzzing with excitement to raise the stakes the next day. We were aiming for the only living, existing wonder of the world.
Day Two: The Pyramids
Day two started with a local Egyptian breakfast my hotel provided (free!), served by two local hostesses with the pyramids in full view. I practiced what little Arabic I remembered from 20 years ago when I lived in the Middle East.
The car and Ahmed, my guide, arrived. We marched toward the pyramids.
With Ahmed, we sailed through gates to the right spots—by now, he understood what I was looking for. Like R.K. Narayan's The Guide, he first led me to a mound his grandfather and father brought him to as a child which command a spectacular view of the pyramids. He had just lost his father unexpectedly and he was recalling great moments spent with his father. Sharing some of them with me brought us closer, and I felt honored that he trusted me with these stories.
Away from crowds and hustlers, Ahmed read my mind, bringing me to a perfect spot to try to capture the scene on paper. He showed me the spot and I sat and sketched the pyramids in the middle of the desert from a perfect perspective. The weather was amazing - sunny and 70F. Then we moved on to the next location... lots of people walked, which in my opinion is not advisable-- I think it's best to take shuttle buses from point to point.
Once inside the Pyramid complex, getting around is easy, with free rides connecting all the sites. Just don't talk to the strangers - even if you have a guide. Act as if you don't speak of the language. Just say "shukran" (thank you) to everything and move along if a stranger approaches you. Be polite, but don't engage. No YES No NO. Just Shukran. That's the trick. Remember you are in one of the most visited spots in the world, and most of the economy runs on the tourist trade.
Despite their scale and stature, covering the Pyramid complex doesn't consume more than a couple of hours if you are judicious with your time. Or maybe our guide accelerated us through, I don't know. My policy: I live to harvest the overall pleasure. I wasn't going to torture myself crawling through claustrophobic spaces inside the pyramids. Ahmed appreciated that.
We arrived at the spot where the 6,000-year-old boat was excavated and placed in the museum. Only then did the realization dawn on me: water—a river—flowed next to the pyramids just 150 years ago, enough to sail a ship that size. We have no idea what else is going to go under water and sand in the next 2000 years.
That became my aha moment: we stood on a live excavation site. No one knows what else sleeps buried under layers and layers of sand and desert.
The pyramids reminded me of walking through California's Giant Sequoias. Being in the presence of the ancients washed over me. The wisdom. The patience.
The weather smiled on me. Temperatures hovered in the 70s, pleasant and sunny. I completed my pyramid exploration and headed to see the Sphinx. My feet ached. My guide read what I needed—some space to sit and capture the moment. Ahmed again read my mind. I settled next to a kid coloring in her coloring book and quickly sketched the half-human, half-lion sculpture sitting between two pyramids.
My feet were screaming for rest, and I believe in listening to my age and quitting at the top. We grabbed quick to-go lunch, and I returned to my hotel. Tourism part of my trip concluded.
Evening arrived, and I finally starting to feel confident enough to explore Cairo on my own. I scoped out cafes, restaurants, even the laundry. Finally after 48 hours, I walked past the restaurant area next to my hotel and discovered a great outdoor family grill called Zaman.
For the first time, really good food materialized in Cairo. I'm sure it hides everywhere, but with my limited mobility, I hadn't accessed the best restaurants in the neighborhood.
Day Three: Real Cairo
The next day, I asked Ahmed to show me the real Cairo, and boy, did he deliver. Not just the Khan Khalili market where tourists swarm—he showed me the markets where his father and grandfather used to take him. We tasted some local delicacies that tasted like medu vada.
I'm not a fan of visiting temples, mosques, and churches when I travel. I don't understand why people obsess over them—like baby pictures, everyone thinks theirs outshines the rest.
Ahmed deflated a little when I asked him to choose just one religious place to show me. He brought me to a mosque that breathed beauty, peace, and artistry. The minarets soared gorgeously. It seemed like a liberal mosque—I saw many Westerners taking pictures there.
Entry cost nothing. I settled down on the cool marble floor and sketched quickly. Ahmed shared more stories about his memories of his father and grandfather as we strolled through the old Egyptian markets where tourists never venture. No one hustled. No one stopped me from taking pictures. People radiated kindness. The market wasn't spotless, but it existed as it was.
Something surprising unfolded: I came to a spot where about fifteen students were sketching in the public square. I had discovered my mothership. I simply planted myself there and sketched the perspective quickly. Just then, the professor stormed in, scolding and shouting at the students, instructing them how to pay attention, focus, and be studious. He approached, examined my work, and didn't look pleased.
I realized this country doesn't embrace abstract artists anymore. The pharaohs have long vanished.
The last stop brought us to the Nile. Ahmed had arranged an entire boat for me for a 30-minute trip through downtown Cairo. I have to say, downtown Cairo transforms into a different city. It presents itself tidier, cleaner, with polished buildings, financial institutions, and hotels. An entire part of the city looks well-maintained and attended to by civil institutions. It just doesn't exist close to Giza.
So I'd recommend about four days if Nile cruises and dinners appeal to you—two near Giza and two near downtown. My focus locked onto the art, so I decided to stay close to the museum and pyramids. Next time, I'll plant myself near downtown and explore the Nile cruises.
Final Day: Seven Hours in the Museum
As an abstract artist, my fascination with Egyptian art started with its script—those enigmatic hieroglyphs and emotive figurative faces always fascinated me. They were five thousand years older than the so called "modern" art we know of today.
So after checking all the boxes as a tourist, I was so happy to have an entire day to visit the museum and the go a little deeper. I wanted to spend some time in their presence and sketch some of these eternal models.
My grand finale started in the early morning. I was among the first to descend on the museum. Visiting my favorite spots, sketching, I operated like a pro—I knew where to go and at what time to dodge the crowds. The security guards smiled in admiration because I was absorbing the history rather than just snapping selfies. The experience immersed me completely.
Please see some of my favorite pictures.
Can you see the smile and love still lasting after thousands of years in that look?
Look how detailed these carvings are. Someone has destroyed their faces but the beauty still remains.
Standing on my feet sketching for seven hours exhausted me, so I returned home with tired feet but a heart brimming full. I got my laundry done in one hour as I embarked on my next leg to Mumbai to visit my 91-year-old mom, who was unwell and had just been admitted to the hospital.
Overall, my experience with Egypt rewarded me deeply. I loved the people. They radiated kindness, respect, and welcomed me as an Indian. In fact, being Indian proved helpful in most circumstances.
Having a local guide who could tailor the tour to my liking and needs became the best thing that could have happened to me.
